


Worth

by Chiyume



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Airplane Sex, Banter, Birthday Smut, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Caring Steve, Civil War, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frottage, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Light Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Protective Steve Rogers, Sex, Sexual Content, civil war outtake, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7345717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiyume/pseuds/Chiyume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's past is not a pleasant one, but Steve's not going to let that get in the way of saving his best friend, in whatever way he possibly can.</p>
<p>(A series of events that may or may not have taken place on the quinjet after Bucky and Steve escape the airport in CIvil War.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrettyInSoulPunk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyInSoulPunk/gifts).



> Alright, so this is a fic that's been lying around ever since I first saw Captain America : Civil War. (sobs forever because of feels)
> 
> I've been doubtful whether or not to post it for quite some time, because I'm still very new to the Marvel/Stucky fandom, and even though I love it to bits I'm still terrified that I'm gonna end up fucking up the entire characterization of the ship.  
> Then today, I found out that it's **[PrettyInSoulPunk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyInSoulPunk/profile)'s** birthday! And what better way to celebrate this wonderful gem of a person than with a little bit of feelsy Stucky smut? (That's right, there is no better way, fight me.)
> 
> So Happy Birthday, Sweetheart, Honey, Sugar, Darlin', and every other nickname Bucky might have used to describe you. You're a real treasure, and I'm so glad that we've met <3  
> I hope you'll like your present, however improvised, hahaha XD 
> 
> Enjoy!

“I don’t know if I’m worth all this, Steve.”

Steve stiffened at the sound of Bucky’s voice. The words were low, almost nothing more than a mumble, but Steve heard them anyway, causing a weight to form in the pit of his stomach when the dejected tone of Bucky’s voice reached his ears.

Bucky sounded so tired. Worn out and ragged with a gravel to his voice that pierced through Steve’s heart like a blade.

He took a breath, turning his head to glance down his side, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up. He knew what expression he would find on Bucky’s face if he did, and at the moment he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold himself together well enough to withstand that kind of sight. He had come to know himself well enough to realize that by confirming how dejected Bucky actually was, he would only tear up and become of no use at all.

He  _ wanted _ to say that yes, of course Bucky was worth it. Wanted to assure his friend that no matter what happened, he would  _ always  _ be worth it, but he couldn’t. The words only seemed to clog up the insides of his throat on their way out when he tried, making him choke. He closed his lips, pinching them together momentarily before opening his mouth again.

“What you did all those years,” he said, turning to reason in an attempt to stay supportive. His voice turned softer when he continued, “It wasn’t you. You didn’t have a choice.”

“I know,” Bucky said simply, and Steve’s gut dropped when he heard the attempted apathy shake apart beneath the self loathing in Bucky’s voice when he added, “But I did it.”

Steve’s chest suddenly felt too small, too tight to hold the emotions that crowded inside him. Some distant, primal part of his brain was immediately reminded of the time when he’d still had asthma; a muscle memory he should have long since gotten rid of telling him to reach for a Tedral bottle in his nonexistent back pocket. He wrestled it down.

Steve turned away, his jaw clenching tight as he turned his eyes on the mountain ridge rising in front of them.

He didn’t answer. 

He didn’t know what he would say if he did.

Silence lowered itself over the cockpit, thick and heavy, while Steve continued to stare out through the windshield. When he heard the snap of seatbelt buckles coming undone behind his back, he tried to push the pain inside his chest down, but found the task to be beyond difficult.

Slow, trudging footsteps moved to the back of the plane, leaving Steve behind, and Steve’s shoulders slumped as he let out a deep sigh.

Over seventy years had passed, and yet Steve could still feel Bucky’s emotions pulsate underneath the surface of his skin like a second heartbeat. They were not the same emotions, but the sensation of them was still there. Only rougher, rawer, though he could tell that Bucky was trying hard to conceal them. 

Steve wished that he could help, but he had no idea how. There had been a time when he could have swooped in and saved the day, but this wasn’t anything like freeing prisoners of war, or taking out a battalion, or even talking stuff out over a beer at the local bar. This was harder. So, so much harder.

Steve had read Bucky’s file. He knew, in rough strokes, what Hydra had done to him during the years they had been apart. Going by the things he’d read, they sure hadn’t been good things.

He could see it in Bucky’s eyes. The way they clouded over with memories, hiding the emotions that had always been so clear to Steve in the past. Of course, this new Bucky wasn’t the same Bucky that Steve had known back in Brooklyn, or had fought with against the Nazis during the war, but he was still  _ Bucky _ , and seeing him in such pain hurt in ways Steve couldn’t even describe.

Bucky had always been a gentle soul with a good heart. The things Hydra had forced him to do… it just wasn’t fair. None of it was, and Steve could feel the rage building up inside him the more he thought about it. 

Bucky, Hydra, the Avengers, the Accords… it had all become such a mess. 

If only they had been able to fight together on this, if only Tony hadn’t— 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It didn’t matter, he told himself firmly. They had done what was necessary. Tony would understand that. Eventually. 

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he tried not to think about what, exactly, they  _ had  _ done. About the battle they’d just fought. 

_ I don’t know if I’m worth all this, Steve…  _

Of course Bucky was worth it. To even  _ think  _ otherwise—

Tony would argue, of course. He’d say that Steve was just telling himself that because of his sentiments towards the Bucky Steve had known back in the past.  

The Bucky who laughed at his own jokes. Who made sure Steve always had medication, even when he couldn’t afford it for himself. Who made sure Steve had a place to stay, offering up his own home to him after his mother’s passing. Who wasn’t afraid to call Steve out on his behaviour, no matter whether he was being a scrawny little brat looking for a fight, or a 240 pound guy going one on one with a German tank.

The Bucky who stood up for the little people, who cared for the world, and who wouldn’t have raised a finger towards anyone who hadn’t made damn well sure to earn it first.

Steve sighed and clenched his eyes shut. His head was pounding, echoing the anxious ache he could feel all the way down in his bones. Adrenaline rushed through his veins still, and he knew that Bucky had to feel the same way. That’s why he couldn’t bring himself to sit still. Strapped to a chair. Waiting.

Steve turned his head, listening for any sort of movement from behind him. The silence that met him brought an itch to rise beneath the surface of his skin, and he shifted restlessly in his seat.

He reached out, setting the plane controls on autopilot. It would reduce their speed, he knew that, but not enough so that he felt like caring about it. He could have activated the more sophisticated autopilot, of course, but he wasn’t sure if that would somehow be able to transmit any data on their position back to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. Tony  _ did  _ design the quinjet, after all, and Lord knew the man never gave up a chance to stick his nose into things that didn’t concern him. Besides, they needed the time to take care of this first.

Getting out of his own seat, he quietly went after Bucky.

The ceiling lights in the back of the quinjet were off, leaving only the lead lights along the floor and walls lit up, submerging the interior in a faint, aquatic shade of blue. The seats were all turned up against the walls on both sides of the cabin and the space in between them had been left empty. 

Bucky was seated on the floor at the very back, head hung down between his shoulders, elbows resting on his knees, staring down at his hands.

Something twinged inside Steve’s chest at the sight of him. Anger, sadness, helplessness; everything that he didn’t want to feel. Bucky looked broken. A toy soldier glued back together too many times already, and Steve wished he could do something to change that. Wished that he, somehow, could find a way to mend the broken shards that remained of his best friend’s once so lively spirit.

He opened his mouth to speak, but for the second time in less than five minutes, he closed it again. Still choking. Still  _ useless _ .

Just like that time on the train.

Bucky didn’t move when Steve sat down beside him, and Steve didn’t say anything to get his attention. They sat there in silence, next to each other in the dim, and Steve listened to the sound of Bucky’s breathing, trying to analyze what he was hearing.

Deep breaths, slightly shaky. As if Bucky was trying to calm himself down.

Glancing down and to the side, Steve noted that Bucky was clutching his left hand with the fingers of his right, glimpses of metal peeking out in between the digits. Neither hand was shaking, but Steve had seen that tight clasp more than enough times in the past to know that things were not as okay as they seemed.

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Steve let his eyes travel up the length of Bucky’s arm. Or rather, the metallic limb had taken the place of Bucky’s arm. 

It was an exquisite piece of engineering, he had to admit that, no matter how deadly. Steve suspected that even Tony would have been impressed by it, had he taken the time to look… 

He looked at the spot where the metal shoulder disappeared beneath the dark fabric of Bucky’s vest. Surgically attached to his body.

Steve swallowed as he thought about how much it must have hurt, and he found himself wondering whether or not Bucky had been sedated when they did that to him. Or if he had simply been held down, strapped to a surgery table while Hydra welded that thing onto his shoulder.

His fingers curled, hands balling into hard fists against the top of his knees.

“Stop it.”

Steve flinched when the unexpected sound of Bucky’s voice startled him back to reality.

“What?”

“Whatever you’re thinking about,” Bucky muttered, eyes still staring at the floor. “Stop it.”

Steve swallowed as he let his shoulders slump. He looked back down at Bucky’s hands and nodded pointedly towards them.

“You’re wringing your hands.”

Bucky’s head turned towards him, eyes sharp behind a dark curtain of hair. Slowly, as if he had been caught squeezing the trigger of a loaded gun, Bucky let his hands fall apart.

“Something’s weighing on you,” Steve said matter-of-factly, and he ducked his head as he fought to seek out Bucky’s eyes in the dusk. “Wanna talk about it?”

For a moment, Bucky looked genuinely taken aback by the offer, his mouth falling open in a whispered intake of breath. Then he snorted out a laugh, shaking his head.

“Talk?” he repeated skeptically, but when Steve’s expression didn’t change, his face dropped, the corners of his mouth turning down. “You think that’s all it’s gonna take?” he asked. “Just a quick little heart to heart and then everything’s gonna be fine?”

“No,” Steve answered bluntly, “but I know that keeping things bottled up never ends well. For anyone.”

Bucky’s eyes hardened and his shoulders squared defensively.

“You seriously wanna go there?” he dared, a challenge and something else, maybe a threat, weaving into the words.

“You seriously wanna try and stop me?” Steve countered, just as calmly as he met with the look in Bucky’s eyes head on. “Buck…”

“What?” Bucky asked grimly, defences slamming up so hard Steve could almost see the steel glinting in his eyes. It was a painful sight to witness, but Steve held the gaze steadily, canting his head slightly to the side to give the other a pointed look. Bucky answered with an even harder glare.

Steve would have liked to say that he knew that look. That he had seen it countless of times in the past and knew exactly how to deal with it. He didn’t. This was one of the parts of Bucky that was new, that Steve had never encountered before, and it scared him. 

Before, Bucky would have confided in him with anything. Steve would have asked what was wrong, and Bucky would have spilled his heart to him until there was nothing left, but the gaze which had once been so warm and grateful was now cold and suspicious. It was the glare of a stranger, and it hurt in ways Steve hadn’t felt in almost seventy years.

He swallowed. Keeping their gazes locked, he tried to let his eyes speak the words his mouth couldn’t. After a few seconds, Bucky’s lips tightened, just as something in his eyes appeared to soften. In recognition, maybe, Steve couldn’t tell. 

He only got to see it for a split second, before Bucky turned his head back down, eyes glaring daggers at the floor, flickering over the metal vents in between his feet. His back was still rigid, his shoulders squared, and Steve waited. Waited for the tension to seep out of Bucky’s muscles, for the defensive posture to relax, like it always had done in the past.

“Your friends are going to get in trouble because of me,” Bucky eventually grated out, after what felt like ages. Steve straightened up, turning towards him.

“They made their choice,” he answered solemnly. “None of them went into that fight with any delusions as to what it would mean.”

“That doesn’t mean they won’t suffer for it.”

“There will be consequences,” Steve admitted. “They knew that. All of them. Bucky, they  _ wanted  _ to help us.”

“They wanted to help  _ you _ ,” Bucky countered sharply, glaring up at him again before swallowing hard. “They’re  _ your  _ friends,” he ended lamely as he lowered his head back down.

“They could be your friends too,” Steve argued softly. “Given time.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but time ain’t exactly something we’ve got a lot lying around of.” Bucky snorted. “Besides,” he added, quieter, “I doubt that any of them would feel comfortable referring to the Winter Soldier as ‘a friend’.”

Steve closed his eyes, wincing inwardly.

“Nobody blames you for the things Hydra made you do,” he said firmly. “We all know that you didn’t want— You were  _ forced _ , Buck. Brainwashed.”

“Thanks for putting it so delicately,” Bucky snorted sarcastically.

“I’m serious.”

“Well, so am I!” Bucky snarled, and Steve flinched. The glare was back, but there was something new to the other’s voice now. Something shrill and high pitched, like panic. “It doesn’t matter how much I didn’t want to, or how much I tried to resist. I still  _ did it _ .  _ All  _ of it!”

“It wasn’t  _ you _ ,” Steve responded hotly. “Hydra got inside your head! They may have forced you to do things against your will, but it wasn’t  _ you  _ who did them!” 

Just like that, Bucky wasn’t sitting down anymore. With a growl, he was up and moving, and before Steve even had the time to react, there was a metal fist flying towards his face. Steve sucked in a breath as he braced himself for impact, but instead of hitting him, the fist landed with a deafening bang right next to his head, leaving a deep dent in the metal wall behind them.

Leaning over him, Bucky’s face was just inches away from Steve’s own, glaring him down with his lip pulled up in a snarl. He was shaking. Steve could feel the tremble of his arm through the wall pressing in against his back, the rush of Bucky’s ragged breathing fanning over his lips.

“I killed those people!” Bucky growled, eyes welling up with a pain too bare for Steve to even look at. “Hundreds of them! Innocent, guilty, men, women.  _ Children _ . They all died by  _ my  _ hand!” His gaze flickered towards his arm, the gleam of the metal reflecting in his eyes. Slowly, his shoulders began to slump as the hostility melted away beneath the weight of the guilt rolling in to take its place.

“By this hand…” he grated thickly.

Steve both felt and heard the creak of metal next to his ear when Bucky’s fingers pulled away from the wall, and Steve licked his lips as he gazed up on the way Bucky’s jaw and throat worked to keep his emotions at bay. 

“I don’t care,” he said, nothing more than a whisper in the dark. Reaching up, he let his fingers gently fold over and around the metal of Bucky’s wrist, pulling it down. “I don’t blame you.”

“But I do,” Bucky breathed.

Something inside Steve’s chest chinked at the held back tears in Bucky’s voice, a brittle silence settling between them as Steve lowered Bucky’s hand. He didn’t let go of him, refused to, and after a few seconds, Bucky slowly sank back down beside him once more.

“I couldn’t do anything,” he murmured. “I recognized the book. I knew what it meant before I even heard him cite the first word, but I couldn’t do anything. I knew that he’d make me hurt people and I still—” 

He cut himself off, choking on the sentence. Steve knew that Bucky’s body had to be trembling still, but the hand in his grip had suddenly grown rock steady.

“I recognized the book,” Bucky repeated, “because that’s the only memory I’ve ever been able to stomach. Hydra’s wiped my head clean, over and over, and yet, after all this time, I still get these glimpses, you know? I  _ remember  _ people, Steve. Their faces. Their voices… What the  _ air  _ smelled like. I can’t stop it, it just— I mean, I walk by a guy smoking a cigarette on the street, and suddenly there’s an image of my hands around someone’s neck flashing through my head.”

He pulled in a shaky breath and dragged his right hand down over his eyes.

“I’ve killed so many people…” he mumbled.

Steve tightened his grip around Bucky’s left hand, clutching it hard. He didn’t say anything, but for a brief second, he thought he felt the steel of Bucky’s fingers grip him back.

Once again, there was only silence. It stretched on, filled only with the low whirr from the plane engines and the sound of their joined breathing. Bucky’s head was turned down, the blue lights from above cloaking his face in shadow. Steve found himself silently wishing that he could see his eyes.

“I lost my real arm in the fall, you know.”

Steve tensed, his breath hitching, but Bucky didn’t seem to notice. Or didn’t care.

“It got torn to pieces. I don’t know how, I blacked out the moment my body hit the mountain side, but it was a pretty long drop, so I can only imagine… Hydra found me, eventually. They took me back to their base and then they—”

This time, Steve could really feel Bucky’s fingers tighten around his when Bucky’s voice croaked and died, smothered by the pressure of the memories trying to fight their way to the surface, without succeeding.

“I dream about it, some times,” Bucky continued. “I wake up with the stench of my own flesh thick in my nostrils, mixed with smell of metal and blood. My brain obviously remembers what they did, even if I don’t. I’m not sure I ever want to.” 

He glanced down at his arm, and Steve caught the guilt ridden expression that flashed over his face when he saw the whitened knuckles of Steve’s hand. Bucky quickly loosened his grip, letting up on the punishing pressure on Steve’s fingers, but he didn’t let him go.

“This arm is part of me now”, he rasped. “It has murdered and killed and destroyed, and yet when I look at it I don’t see a part of a machine anymore. If I were to lose it, it would be a genuine loss to me, and I hate myself for that.”

Steve could hear the growl in that sentence. The hatred Bucky was talking about almost like a physical touch, coating his skin.

“Hydra did things to me that I don’t think should be possible to survive. Except I did.” Bucky snorted. “They violated me. They used me, tried to rip my humanity away. For twenty years they tried to break me before they finally succeeded, and still, despite all of their efforts, I’m still here. A murder machine with a fucking  _ conscience _ .”

Steve felt his stomach draw tight at the very first sentence. Images, horrible and bloody, appeared before his inner vision, and he braced himself, swallowing down the acid taste in his mouth. 

Bucky was and always had been beautiful, even by male standards. Steve was well aware of that. He was also aware of the fact that war had a tendency to mess with people’s heads, and Steve doubted that Hydra’s men were in any way immune to that, given the organization’s agenda. The cruelty of battle sometimes followed soldiers home, and fueled by hatred, it could make them do things they normally wouldn't. Things they might even have been disgusted by, given normal circumstances… 

“When you say violated,” he started quietly, “are you saying that they… Did they—”

“No,” Bucky said, shaking his head slowly. “Not that I know of, at least. Though, to be honest, I sort of wished they had…”

Steve’s brow furrowed, and Bucky must have noticed his disapproval, because he continued bitterly, “Physical violation I can live with, I already learned how to deal with that. But to have them inside my head is worse. To know that they can control what I do, make me turn against the people I care about… I’d rather have been passed around the entire Hydra headquarters, had I been given the choice.”

“Don’t say that,” Steve growled. 

“It’s true,” Bucky deadpanned. “Torture and pain were all things I was prepared for when I joined the war. Killing my best friend was not.”

Steve’s mouth shut, lips forming a thin, grim line.

“I don’t know what the hell they did to my head,” Bucky continued, “but I know now that I can’t stop others from doing it again. I’m dangerous, Steve.”

“You’re a good man,” Steve objected.

“A good man…” Bucky repeated, his voice mocking and empty.

“Yes,” Steve insisted, and Bucky glanced at him, eyebrows knotting together. 

“You really do think that, don’t you?” he said, sounding cynically fascinated by Steve’s determination.

“I do,” Steve answered firmly.

Bucky regarded him in silence for another second or two, then shook his head with a snort.

“You always were a stubborn little punk…”

“Guess some things never change,” Steve said quietly.

“Guess they don’t,” Bucky agreed, looking up.

Their eyes met, and again, Steve felt his stomach pull together tight, his heart pounding against his rib cage, though for completely different reasons than before. It was a painfully familiar feeling, painful because it felt safe. He knew that Bucky had to be feeling it too, going by the way his mouth fell open in response, his pupils wide and dark. Then again, it could also be due to the darkness in the cabin, Steve couldn’t tell for sure. Didn’t want to assume… 

He ducked his head, gaze catching his thumb as it swiped back and forth over the silvery back of Bucky’s hand. Wow, how long had he been doing that? Had Bucky noticed?

He his eyes darted up and caught Bucky gazing down at their hands, making it clear that, yes, he had noticed. Steve let out an embarrassed chuckle, shaking his head at how ridiculous the sentiment must seem in the context.

“Look at me, being all sappy,” he said as he raised their joined hands up into the air, before allowing them to drop down again with a degrading snort. “I mean, I don’t even know if you can actually feel that.”

“I can,” Bucky said, a hint of a smile ghosting across his lips.

Steve looked down at his thumb, contemplating that answer as he slowly swiped the digit back and forth once more.

“What does it feel like?” he asked curiously, and Bucky furrowed his brow, as if he had to actually think about it for a moment.

“Warm,” he said slowly. “And… prickly.”

“Prickly?” Steve laughed, feeling the tight knot in his stomach ease up when Bucky actually smiled back.

“Yeah, prickly. Or tingly, if that makes you feel better.”

“Believe it or not, but it does,” Steve answered, swallowing down another chuckle. “So… you actually feel with this thing? Like a normal arm?”

“Not exactly,” Bucky disagreed. “A normal arm feels pain. This is designed to feel more… practically.”

“Practically as in…?”

“Heat. Cold. Pressure.” Bucky shrugged. “Things that keep me alive and others dead.”

Steve cleared his throat with a discreet cough as he quickly moved away from that particular subject, returning the focus to the hand in his.

“So if I do this…?” He squeezed Bucky’s hand, hard. “Then that’s just pressure to you? Not pain?”

“Basically,” Bucky answered, once again with an amused little smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“And this…” Steve curled Bucky’s palm open as he dragged a single, light finger down its centre. “…just tingles?”

“Prickles,” Bucky corrected, making Steve roll his eyes. He bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at the shine of Bucky’s fingers.

“This too?” he asked cockliy, repeating the motion with even less pressure, noting how Bucky’s jaw clenched slightly when Steve skirted the tip of his nail against the metal.

“Still prickles,” Bucky insisted. Stubborn. Like always.

“Alright,” Steve nodded. “Then I guess this doesn’t tingle either?”

Quickly, he spidered his fingers over the other man’s open palm, feeling satisfaction bloom inside his chest when Bucky’s pinky twitched in response.

“Nope.” Bucky shook his head. “Not at all.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, not breaking eye contact as he slowly began to trail his fingers down the length of Bucky’s lower arm. Bucky held his gaze, but Steve saw the way his shoulders tensed at the touch, noting the way his throat bobbed when Steve’s fingers reached the sensitive are on the inside of the elbow.

“How about now?”

Bucky shook his head, but this time, he didn’t answer, and Steve swallowed. He hesitated before he continued, looking Bucky dead in the eye as he raised Bucky’s hand to his mouth to press the knuckles lightly against his own lips.

The metal was cool, and tasted like… well, metal, but any disappointment he might have gotten from the taste was impressively compensated by the sharp sound of Bucky’s breath hitching.

Steve lowered his gaze. Heat had begun to build in the pit of his stomach, but he still continued to move his lips further down as he kissed his way across Bucky’s palm and wrist. He could hear the way Bucky’ breath grew increasingly jagged the further he went, but the sound didn’t deter him as much as it served to act as fuel to the fire.

There were flames lazily licking their way through his veins, and they caused his own breath to shake whenever his lips left the cool of Bucky’s metal plating to move to a different spot. Turning the route around, he slowly began to make his way back up towards Bucky’s wrist, daring to slide a bit of tongue against the metal groove where the hand met the lower arm, before he looked up to meet Bucky’s wide eyed stare head on.

“Tingly yet?” he breathed, almost thrown by how hoarse his voice sounded to his own ears.

Bucky gaped back at him in silence. His chest rose in a deep, controlled intake of breath, and Steve could see the way his jaw had dropped, leaving his lips parted. The instinctive urge to lean in and kiss them suddenly felt overwhelming.

All at once, it was as if the years lost between them had never happened. In just a few heartbeats, Steve was back in 1943, the memories all bright and clear inside his head. The stealthy touches, the brief kisses, the hurried press of lips and skin behind the barracks after dark… Years of death and destruction, and yet, here they were again, together, just like in the good old days. It made Steve’s head reel, and his body literally ached for the once so familiar taste of Bucky’s skin on his tongue, for the bruising grip of Bucky’s hands on his hips.

He leaned in, but Bucky must have read his face, because he immediately pulled back with a violent shake of his head.

“It won’t be the same,” he whispered.

“I know,” Steve nodded. Gently, he moved in closer, and Bucky’s gaze dropped down to stare at his lips, as if by their own accord.

“You don’t wanna do this, Steve,” he tried weakly. “Not with me. Not with  _ this  _ me.”

“Don’t tell me what I want.”

“ _ Steve… _ ”

Steve froze as the the plea in Bucky’s voice slammed into his chest, the sound of it bringing a chill to his bones that snuffed out the heat rising inside him. Bucky was looking down at the floor, again, and Steve could see that his eyes had been squeezed tightly shut as if Bucky couldn’t even bare to look at him anymore. A zing of guilt flash through him at the sight, and he immediately pulled back.

“I’m sorry,” he said hurriedly, “I didn’t mean to—”

He was cut off when Bucky’s hand pulled out of his grip to clutch hard around the side of Steve’s collar instead, stopping him from moving away.

“That’s not it,” Bucky hissed under his breath. Steve frowned.

“It’s not?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

Bucky didn’t answer. Instead, Steve could hear the squeak of metal next to his ear when Bucky’s hand tensed even further. He could hear Bucky’s breathing pick up speed, and hearing the labored way the air rushed in and out of the other man’s lungs ripped canyon deep wounds into Steve’s very soul.

“Bucky…” he whispered softly. “Buck, look at me.”

Grey eyes squinted open as the hand against Steve’s neck gave a violent quake.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” Steve asked, worried. Suddenly he was scared. Had he been mistaken? Had Bucky changed his mind about… them?

It wouldn’t be unrealistic, of course. Years were years, after all, and he couldn’t exactly expect Bucky to hold the same sentiments as he himself did after all this time. After everything they both had been through. 

_ Did  _ Bucky even remember? The human brain was incredible, Steve hadn’t needed the Internet to reach that conclusion, but there were  _ limits _ . Whatever memories of Steve Bucky still had left were all probably very vague, perhaps already reduced to nothing more than series of those short, confusing glimpses Bucky had mentioned just a few minutes ago. Glimpses he might not recognize, or even agree with, anymore.

It was a thought that terrified him, and Steve didn’t want to linger on it, but his brain wouldn’t let it go. Before his inner vision, he saw how Bucky shoved him away, telling him not to touch him, to stop. How Bucky told him about how he had no idea what Steve was talking about. That he had forgotten all that they used to be. 

He was fully prepared for the rejection when Bucky finally opened his mouth, but what came out was, to Steve’s combined relief and sorrow, none of the things he had imagined.

“You can’t trust me.” Bucky’s voice was trembling. “The things Hydra put in my head, Steve, I don’t know what will happen if—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he pleaded. “Not again.”

“You won’t,” Steve promised.

“You don’t know that.”

“I  _ do _ .”

Steve leaned in to push his forehead against the side of Bucky’s temple. His hand found Bucky’s shoulder, gripping around it with tender fingers to rub soothing circles through the material of his vest. 

“I do, because I know  _ you _ . I  _ know  _ you.”

Bucky made a noise, low and strained in the back of his throat, and Steve felt the feathery light touch of metal against his cheek when Bucky’s hand clenched down even harder on his collar.

“I trust you with my life, Buck,” Steve whispered. “I always have. Always will.”

Rubbing their foreheads together, he gingerly let his hand wander up the side of Bucky’s neck until his fingers rested against the other’s jaw line. Bucky’s breath was hot on his lips, ragged and uneven, and Steve felt the speed of his pulse pick up at the mere sound of it.

“God, I’ve missed you so much...” he whispered hoarsely. He heard Bucky drag for breath, almost a wince, and then lips suddenly latched onto his as Bucky surged forward, kissing him hard and recklessly.

Steve let out a groan, embarrassingly loud in the hushed silence that had been filling up the space between them so far, and his heart gave an excited leap inside his chest when he heard Bucky answer with a moan of his own.

Both of Steve’s hands clutched around the back of Bucky’s shoulders, fingers clasping onto the fabric of his vest while Bucky dragged another ragged breath into his lungs. Bucky’s human hand palmed Steve’s chest, fingers groping at the surface of his suit without ever settling in place. Metal fingers curled in his hair, a tongue slipping into his mouth, and somehow Steve’s hand slipped, ending up on Bucky’s thigh, clamping down around the muscle when Bucky gasped and then groaned loudly at the touch.

Suddenly, they were not just kissing anymore, but wrestling. Bucky crowded Steve against the wall, almost climbing onto his lap, and Steve couldn’t help but think about the first times they had done anything like this. Back when it had been Steve straddling Bucky’s thick thighs with his own, considerately scrawnier ones. Back when Bucky’s hands had been the strongest in the world as they held him close, the heat between them building until there was nothing but ashes and glowing ember left.

Steve was acutely aware of how broad Bucky’s body felt as it pushed against his, how incredibly thick the muscles of his arms and chest were. Of course, Bucky had always been big, especially before, when Steve’s own body hadn’t been wider than a toothpick in comparison, but this was different. Even now, when Steve’s body was anything but frail bones and skin, Bucky was still bigger than he had expected, the angles and lines of his body new beneath the touch of Steve’s hands.

Still, the difference between them in strength seemed close to nonexistent now. Not like the times in Brooklyn, when Bucky had been able to manhandle Steve whichever way he had wanted to. Now, the odds had been evened out considerably.

Spurred by the thought, Steve reached around to take a firm hold around the curve of Bucky’s ass, and Bucky’s hand left Steve’s hair to brace against the wall behind them with a deft clang of metal when Steve pulled him fully down onto his lap.

Grinding up, Steve felt Bucky gasp against his mouth, and Steve took the chance to lean in and lick and nip teasingly at Bucky’s lower lip. He caught the soft flesh between his teeth, pulled, the action promptly causing Bucky to rock himself down over him with an impatient snarl.

The heated reaction caused Steve to chuckle, and he let go of Bucky’s lip with a final, lewd suckle. He had barely pulled back far enough to even catch his breath when Bucky then pushed forward, catching Steve’s mouth in a kiss so starved and voracious it knocked a startled groan right out of his lungs.

Bucky’s right hand scrambled over Steve’s shoulders, down his chest, as if in search of something, and Steve both heard and felt Bucky curse against the seam of their lips when it became apparent that he couldn’t find it.

“How the hell do you get out of this thing?” Bucky growled, pulling at Steve’s collar in frustration.

“It’s sectioned,” Steve panted. “Here, it’s— No, here, by the—”

Steve let go of Bucky’s hip to guide the other’s hand across his chest. The chest plate was attached with magnets which, naturally, no normal human should be able to remove, but then again, they both knew that neither Steve nor Bucky really counted as ‘normal’ anymore.

Once Bucky figured out where to pull, dragging the combined chest and back plate over Steve’s head became mere child’s play. The piece was soon followed by the red and white of Steve’s belt; the thick material of the suit’s sections hitting the floor with heavy thumps as they got tossed aside.

“I knew there had to be a zipper somewhere,” Bucky huffed triumphantly, sounding pleased as he grabbed around the tab nestled underneath Steve’s chin.

“Are you kidding?” Steve panted. “If I had to  _ button  _ this thing up whenever I wanted to use it, I’d never be able to save the world on time”

“Still cocky as ever,” Bucky said with a snort, already pulling the zipper down to reveal the growing V of Steve’s chest.

“You still like it,” Steve pointed out confidently, and the left corner of Bucky’s mouth immediately curled upwards. He didn’t answer, however. He just continued to pull the zipper down until the suit was fully open, and Steve silently pulled the sleeves off, leaving him with his torso bared.

Bucky pulled back to sit on Steve’s thighs, looking down at his work before resolutely ridding himself of his own vest and throwing it onto the floor.  Even in the dim light, Steve could see the muscles stretch and play beneath the fabric of Bucky’s black shirt, and he determinedly reached out and slipped his hands underneath the hem of the garment, relishing in the heat of skin against his fingers.

“This too,” he whispered, and beneath his hands, Bucky stiffened with hesitation.

“I wanna see you, Buck,” Steve urged, pushing the shirt even higher as he grazed the tip of his fingers against the seam between flesh and metal on Bucky’s shoulder. “All of you,” he added firmly.

Bucky’s face was unreadable. The light above his head made it hard for Steve to see past the shadows covering his face, and for a moment, he faltered.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” he added quickly, but Bucky just shook his head.

“No,” he said. “No, I— It’s okay.”

Steve could hear him swallow, and then he watched Bucky reach down and pull the shirt over his head, tossing it to the side, and Steve felt himself twitch beneath the waistline at the suddenly unobscured view of his friend’s skin. 

“See something you like?” Bucky asked. The phrase was cocky, as was the smirk that met Steve when he looked up, but the voice was anything but. It was insecure. Nervous.

“Very much,” Steve breathed. It was the only thing he could think of saying, temporarily being at a loss for words. He trailed his fingers down the side of Bucky’s ribs, feeling them expand beneath the touch as Bucky’s breath hitched. Still so beautiful, he thought. Still so warm.

Leaning in, he reached around to grab a steady hold around Bucky’s midsection and pull him in. He then proceeded to slide his lips against the side of Bucky’s left rib, and he couldn’t help the moan that escaped his throat when Bucky pressed himself against his mouth with a low gasp of approval.

Spreading fluttering kisses and love bites in his wake, he soon reached the edge of a nipple, and he studiously flicked his tongue over the nub, just to feel it harden beneath the touch. Both of Bucky’s hands found Steve’s upper arms, and when Steve latched his mouth over the slickened tip and sucked, Bucky’s fingers clutched around the top of his shoulders, fingernails scraping against the nape of Steve’s neck as they scratched their way up his scalp.

Bucky arched into the touch in a heady attempt to chase the sensation of Steve’s tongue, his breath already strung out and needy. His hips rolled, slow and lazy, while his hands kept Steve’s head held in place against his chest, fingers twitching. 

So beautiful.

Steve groaned as he flattened his tongue against the rigid flesh in his mouth, and he quickly dropped both of his hands down to undo the fly of Bucky’s trousers, sliding his hand inside.

“Shit…” Bucky breathed. His hips stuttered eagerly into the palm of Steve’s hand as Steve’s fingers wrapped around his cock, pulling it free from the underwear beneath.

Steve smirked, using his free hand to push the garments fully out of the way while he abandoned the now rosy nipple to kiss his way back down the front of Bucky’s chest, grazing his teeth against the skin. Muscles jumped beneath the slide of his tongue when Bucky’s abs clenched and unclenched in time with the kisses, and Steve could feel the other’s arousal press against the side of his neck when he leaned in to nibble at the ridge of an exposed hipbone. Then, he felt coarse hair rub against his chin, and above him, he heard Bucky give a low, impatient groan.

It had been so long, for a moment Steve was stricken by the irrational thought that he had forgotten how it was supposed to be done. He had only ever done this with Bucky. Hadn’t wanted to do it with anyone else, and they had been apart for such a long, long time. 

He hesitated, just for a second. Then Bucky’s fingers tightened in his hair, silent, but pleading, and the doubt was gone.

He opened his mouth, welcoming the thickness of Bucky’s erection as it slid inside, making sure it got wet enough before allowing it to move back out. He took his time doing it, and if the pants and moans he received in return was of any indication, the attention was greatly appreciated.

Bucky always did love it slow. Slow meant that they had time. To explore, examine. To enjoy each other’s bodies to the fullest and bask in the luxury that came with it. Slow meant pleasure so intense it balanced on the brink of torture, and they both knew that there were times where such bliss was not only enjoyed, but also needed.

They had plenty of time, but even if that was the case, patience still seemed to be the last thing on Bucky’s mind when Steve took him in for the second time, deeper and slower than before.

“Christ, Steve…” Bucky moaned, looking down at him from above, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away. “Jesus…”

Steve hummed as he briefly pressed his tongue against the slit of the cock in his mouth, before moving down to let it fan over the frenulum beneath, causing Bucky to, quite literally, buck into his mouth with a gasped out whimper.

It didn’t take long before Steve had efficiently reduced his partner into a panting, whining mess, that could do nothing but tremble on Steve’s lap while Steve continued to suck him off. Bucky’s fingers kept carding through Steve’s hair, the chill of metal sending goosebumps prickling down the skin of the other man’s neck while Bucky continued to rock himself in and out of Steve’s mouth, leaning forward to press muffled whimpers against the top of his head.

“You’re still crazy for this, aren’t you?” Steve panted, pulling off to replace his mouth with his hand, feeling Bucky’s fingers dig into the flesh of his shoulder in retaliation.

“Don’t stop…” Bucky slurred. His voice rose into a whine as his hips stuttered forward, silently begging. “I’m not gonna— Steve… Oh, please, please, don’t stop…” 

Steve chuckled, but instead of continuing, he simply leaned in to lick a single, wet stripe across the head of Bucky’s cock. He felt heat fan across the top of his scalp when Bucky choked out a startled groan into his hair, but the sound quickly morphed into a displeased hiss when Steve then let go of him completely.

He didn’t give Bucky the time to voice any further protest, however, before he had already pulled him down fully over himself, rocking them together. He felt the cool of Bucky’s metal fingers skate up his chest as the other caught himself against it, before they resolutely moved up to take a steady hold around the back of his neck. 

This time, Steve allowed Bucky to set the pace, and oh, what a pace. It was rushed, greedy, almost frantic, and Steve didn’t complain. His own cock was lying hard against his stomach, leaking wet over his skin, and when Bucky reached down in an attempt to wrap his fingers around them both, Steve let out a moan that felt as if it had travelled all the way up from his toes.

Bucky’s hips moved feverently as they rolled down, his erection sliding against Steve’s in the tight heat of his hand, making Steve’s heart race to the point where he had to reach down and steady himself against the slim curve of Bucky’s waist, just to keep his head from spinning.

“Fuck…” he gasped, hearing the curse roll off his tongue before he could stop it, and Bucky immediately responded with another moan as his rhythm slowly began to fall apart between them. 

They had time, they knew that, but none of them wanted to drag this out. It had been too long, and they were both tired of waiting. Steve didn’t need to see Bucky’s face to know that he was getting close; he could feel it in the way the muscles of his thighs kept clenching around his as Bucky continued to chase the crest of the wave with an abandon that left them both lightheaded. Bucky’s fingers slipped over Steve’s skin, the grip faltering, and Steve reached up to push the hair out of Bucky’s eyes in order to see the telltale haze that already had begun to cloud his gaze over.

“You close?” he panted, cupping the side of the other man’s face as Bucky could only nod, his mouth already hanging open. Steve let his other hand drop from its perch on Bucky’s hip and reached down between them to tangle his fingers with Bucky’s own as he too began stroking them, taking over.

“Steve…” Bucky breathed as he leaned his head into the touch of Steve’s hand, his fingers tightening around Steve’s neck. “Oh, fuck, Steve, I’m gonna come. You’re gonna make me come, Steve… Steve…”

“I know,” Steve panted, and he sped up the movement of his hand as he could feel his own head begin to spin. “I know, I’m right here with you. Just come for me, Buck.”

“I’m gonna come,” Bucky rasped. “Oh,  _ Christ _ … Oh, fuck,  _ Steve _ , I’m gonna—”

Steve watched the grey of Bucky’s eyes disappear behind the flutter of his eyelids at the same time as he felt the heat of him spill, hot and messy all over his hand. Bucky kept rocking, riding the high for as long as he could before he slumped down with a strung out whimper against the side of Steve’s neck, still moving, still shoving himself against the hard length of Steve’s own erection.

“C’mon, Stevie…” he urged, his voice raw and breathy against the shell of Steve’s ear. “C’mon, give it to me… Just like old times, remember?”

It was the needy crack in Bucky’s voice that finally did him in. The confirmation that not only did Bucky remember what the old times had been like, but that he wanted them  _ back _ . The words alone lit the world ablaze around him, and Steve came, wrapping his free arm around the span of Bucky’s back to hold him close as he buried his cry against the nape of Bucky’s neck, throbbing within the grip of the other man’s closed fist.

White spots prickled his vision when it was all over, even as he closed his eyes, and he slumped against the wall with Bucky’s pliant body hunched down on top of his, lax and sated. Everything was spinning, the lingering pulses of his orgasm still chasing the endorphins through his system as he slowly came back down into his own body once more.

“Hey…” He turned his head to rub his face against the side of Bucky’s head where he was, still draped over his shoulder. “You okay?” he panted. 

“Peachy,” Bucky mumbled back, his drowsy voice partially muffled by the skin of Steve’s neck. The sound coaxed a chuckle out of Steve’s chest, and he allowed his head to fall back against the wall with a low thump.

“You know, I don’t recall you ever being this eager before,” Bucky drawled, and Steve shuddered when the hot air of the other’s breath beat against his neck.

“Well…” Steve retorted, raspy, but soberly. “It’s not as if I ever had to go without you for seventy years before, either.”

There was a brief silence.

“Touché,” Bucky answered, before lowering his head back down to press his forehead against the top of Steve’s shoulder. “Though, as nice as the result of that was, I don’t think I’ll be able to wait that long until next time.”

Even through his post orgasmic haze, Steve could still hear the lazy stretch of the smile in Bucky’s voice as he said it. It wasn’t much—barely a hint of a promise—but it was more than enough to wake a familiar warmth in the centre of his chest, easing up the final, lingering tension that had been coiled in his muscles.

They still had a long way to go, but come hell and high water, Steve wasn’t about to let Bucky fight his way through this alone. Whatever Hydra had done to him, Steve would fix it, even if he had to wage war against the whole goddamn world to do so.

Bucky was worth that.

_ He was worth everything. _

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday again [PrettyInSoulPunk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyInSoulPunk/profile)! I hope you have an amazing day <3
> 
> Also, to everyone else, thank you so much for reading <3  
> Please feel free to leave me a comment on your thoughts if you have them, I'd really appreciate it.  
> I hope you too have a fantastic day :)


End file.
